


Fine With It

by Missy



Category: How I Met Your Mother
Genre: Alcohol, Broken Engagement, F/M, Public Sex, Rain, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-01
Updated: 2011-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-22 02:07:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin's marrying Don, and Barney's totally cool with that...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fine With It

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle XII: prompt: How I Met Your Mother, Robin Scherbatsky/Barney Stinson, scotch, white. Thank you to Amber for beta!

Robin was marrying Don, and Barney was cool with it. One hundred percent cool, right down to the tips of his fine Italian loafers. Which was why he was slurping fifty-year-old Singleton scotch straight from the bottle under an elm tree and the threat of rain.

A figure stomped up to him, shrouded in white – it took him a minute to realize it was Robin.

“Who let out the Stay-Puffed Marshmallow man?” he asked.

She yanked the veil back. “Give me,” she demanded, reaching for the lost bottle of booze.

“No! I already got you a wedding gift! Get your own!” He hogged the scotch to his chest like a baby. “Is the mean lady stirring up your dregs?” he asked the bottle.

“There wasn’t a wedding!” Robin called, as the wind picked up.

Barney took a drink straight from the bottle, half-hearing Robin’s proclamation. “HUH?”

“I couldn’t do it!” Robin yelled over its howl.

There was a pregnant pause before Barney chuckled. Robin snarled at him. “Come on! You said ‘do’! It’s a classic!’ He held up a hand. “Bad-joke five?”

She shook her head and pinned him to the truck of the tree, pressing several quick kisses against his mouth. Barney automatically yanked her up against his body to protect her from the roughness of the bark, and then slipped his tongue between her lips. Robin kissed him as if her life depended on the next minute, his reaction, on his passion; Barney bruised her lips trying to take control of the kiss. He felt her slim hands press against his rising cock and groaned his emphatic relief into her mouth.

Barney slid one hand up Robin’s dress to fondle her sex through a layer of panty hose and panty. Robin tore open buttons and rent the stitching of his silk boxers to get at his cock – she pulled at his tie until it shredded. “I missed you,” she said against his lips, slipping her fingers up and down the pale shaft.

The textures, heat and wetness of Robin would and had always gotten to Barney; she heated up quickly, groaning into his mouth, writhing back against his cupping hand. He entered her with two fingers and circled them against the cling of her sex, she mercilessly squeezed the base of his cock. Thunder crashed somewhere, and the rain began to pour down evenly, rapidly destroying her carefully-arranged hair and makeup.

Barney noticed, and it was the loss of her artifice that made him speak. “Do you wanna go to my car?” he panted.

She shook her head. “I don’t care, please…Barney…”

This slick head of his cock twitched against her encircling fingers. “Now,” she said, prying his hands away from her sex and hauling her dress upward. Barney saw a flash of tanned skin before she slid down on his free-standing dick, pulling cries from them both.

He heard satin and silk rustle; the dress laden with water and getting in the way. He ripped open the top to get at her breasts while she rose and fell on his cock, ballasted against his chest, one palm spread against the tree trunk.

Barney counted the cost of his stamina with every overheated enclosure of Robin’s pussy around him; then he reached down to help her over the edge of orgasm.

She reached it with a hunching of her shoulders and a muffled cry of ecstatic pain. The convulsions tempted Barney without sending him over the edge.

“I think I might….love this,” he said hesitantly, rolling Robin over to stroke himself home. She didn’t ask what he meant until he’d shuddered his way over the finish line.

“This, or me?”

He laughed nervously. “Ah, just the scotch and the rain. I’m not a crunchy hippie type anymore, but they did get one thing right back in the sixties – scoring in the mud is AWESOME…”

“Barney?” He stared at her. “I know.”

“Oh. Uh…” He sat up and started re-arranging his pants. “Okay?”

“I can’t really say it either.” She socked him in the arm playfully. “Let’s go get some fried cheese curds and a couple of beers and not talk about our feelings.”

He grinned his relief. “I might have to re-write the Bro Code for you, Scherbatsky.”

“I think we just did it,” she declared, pushing herself to a standing position.

They left the churchyard, hand in hand, she in her white dress with him dripping down the insides of her thighs, and he with his shredded tie looped loosely around his neck.


End file.
